


Family as a Fine Art

by Shadowlass



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Cousin Ben - Freeform, F/M, Full of Feels, Gen, Hux is a complete shit you've been warned, Reylo - Freeform, except Rey she's awesome, family Skywalker-style, reunited and it feels so awkward, the First Order isn't done with Kylo yet, they have to work this out, this whole family has to do better, you can’t choose your family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowlass/pseuds/Shadowlass
Summary: Bring her to me, the Supreme Leader demanded. Little does he know that his apprentice is done following orders.But Kylo Ren doesn’t realize that his impulsive act will lead him back to the family he left behind so long ago…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally planned to celebrate the Reylo Sin Anthology's Cousin Ben Week. Many thanks to the community's leader, WillowsWisp, and to my beta, IshaRen.

_ Bring her to me. And I will show you the dark side. _

Kylo Ren jammed his helmet on. Most First Order personnel had never seen him without it, and that was how he wanted it. They had no right to see his face and think they knew him. The thought made him clench his teeth.

_ Bring her to me. And I will show you the dark side. _

The Supreme Leader was the only one who saw his face. It stung that Hux, that miserable prick, had been there to see both his face and his humiliating reprimand. To hear that the girl had resisted him, that the Supreme Leader now mistrusted him with her. That he planned to use her as a lesson, as if Kylo were a mere novice instead of an apprentice on the brink of mastering the dark side. As if he’d not been handling Snoke’s dirty work for years while the Supreme Leader floated above it all, smug and distant, maneuvering Kylo on his chessboard and never letting him see more than a move or two ahead.

Perhaps Kylo should have expected it. He was merely a knight, after all. An expendable piece, not even worthy of regular training.

And the girl was less even than he. A mere pawn. Snoke would rip the map from her mind and leave her broken on the holochamber floor from systems away. He would kill her—this unimaginably gifted girl—without ever breathing the same air.

Kylo began to walk faster, his hands clenching at his sides.

Snoke had given orders for Hux to train his beloved death ray on Hosnian Prime, knowing Kylo had grown up there, knowing he would feel the death of those millions echoing through the Force. And now one of Hux’s worker bees had located the Resistance, and Snoke had ordered him to destroy the entire Ileenium system to ensure no speck of the Resistance remained. The way would be left clear for the First Order. Leia Organa and everything she’d fought for would be gone, and the galaxy would slide into Snoke’s grasp without a whimper.

And if it destroyed one of Kylo’s tethers to the light side, so much the better.

_ Bring her to me. And I will show you the dark side. _

Kylo stalked down the hallways, his strides lengthening, his teeth grinding.

Standing outside the interrogation chamber was the guard he’d left with strict orders not to enter the chamber. If the girl could force her way into Kylo’s mind, she’d have the guard’s mind open to her persuasion before he’d cleared the hallway. He dismissed the trooper with a curt nod and instructed him to close off the hallway when he left.

Kylo wanted privacy for this.

The girl glared fire when he entered, looking even more furious than when he’d left. He recalled how offended she was by his helmet and he thought, insanely, of removing it to soothe her again. Absolutely not. Ridiculous.

He found himself removing it anyway.

She did not appear grateful. Her whole face screwed up, ready to spit defiance at him.

With a wave of his hand her restraints sprang open, and her expression slackened. Before she could spring forward he slapped his hand over her wrists, holding her in place. He leaned down, face close to hers, his voice low. “Keep quiet. I’m getting you out of here.”

* * *

The message was in Bartok, an old Rebel Alliance code. The Resistance had never used Bartok. Nobody had in years; it was so well known there was no point.

_ RECONNAISSANCE SHIP TRACKED TO ILEENIUM SYSTEM REPEAT RECONNAISSANCE SHIP TRACKED TO ILEENIUM SYSTEM ATTACK IMMINENT ABANDON SYSTEM _

But the message wasn’t straight Bartok.

It was laced with Xaczik.

Leia was well acquainted with Xaczik, an obscure language used on the fringes of Kashyyyk. Almost no one else was, though. As far as the galaxy at large was concerned, Wookiees spoke only Shyriiwook and the closely related Thykarann.

But when your husband’s closest friend and partner in crime was a Wookiee, you received an unusual education. She and Han had used this mixture of Bartok and Xaczik during Ben’s childhood, when they didn’t want him to know what they were saying.

There were some things children should never hear.

Han was, she thought, current on Resistance codes. But this one, rooted in the few joyous years they’d had with their son, would never leave either of them. Her heart leapt despite the gravity of the message.

The rest of the control room was buzzing. “Does anyone recognize the code? It’s a variant of Bartok, but it’s mixed with something that sounds like Shyriiwook. But none of the vocalizations are quite right.”

Leia raised an authoritative hand, and the furor mostly subsided. She braced herself; announcing the base needed to evacuate would be like throwing a bomb into the control room. And it required immediate action, not prolonged discussion, something she’d hoped she’d be free of after leaving the senate.

She’d been bemused to discover she could still be naïve.

“General? Do you understand the message?” the comm officer asked.

“It’s from Han. The First Order has discovered our location and ordered an attack. We have to abandon the system immediately.”

The control room fell silent, and for a moment everyone just absorbed the announcement.

“But shouldn’t we wait until we see if the strike team succeeds?” General Morellan protested. “It may not be necessary to abandon the base.”

“Starkiller Base isn’t the First Order’s only weapon,” Leia reminded him. “Even if it’s wiped out, they still have star destroyers and other bases and troops all over the galaxy. And all we’d have is a brief reprieve. What do we have? A dozen X-wings and a couple crates of blasters? This won’t be like Takodana. They’ll throw everything they’ve got at us to wipe us out. We’re no match for them right now. Do you really want to stake an all-or-nothing claim over this base?”

“She’s right,” barked Admiral Ackbar. “We have no chance if our location is known. We’ve only lasted this long because we’ve kept hidden. All they’d have to do is send in a couple of stormtrooper transports and a few waves of fighters and we’d be wiped out. Transmit the order.”

“What about the fighters? Should we alert them now?”

Leia shook her head. “We need them focused on destroying that base. When they report back after the attack we’ll alert them that we’ve initiated Protocol Evergreen. They’ll know where to go.”

* * *

Parnassus was colder than D’Qar, but lushly covered in trees. It had been home, decades before, to an Imperial base. Most Resistance evac plans involved abandoned bases, both Rebel and Imperial; those were the most convenient options. Their more desperate schemes involved abandoned industrial complexes, but those were for dire circumstances indeed. There were more likely to be people in those areas, which meant potential loose tongues, or even First Order sympathizers. And even the most unimpeachably discreet local populace was undesirable because of the risk to civilians. The First Order, like the Empire before it, thought nothing of killing innocents.

Leia winced at her own understatement. The First Order had destroyed an entire system, the center of power in the galaxy. Even the Empire had displayed more restraint.

The unfaded memory of Alderaan shattering into debris flashed to her mind. The power of the Galactic Empire had been at its height then, cultivated over the course of decades. But the attack against the Hosnian system was a stunning salvo by what not long before had been little more than a fringe group. A repugnant—and successful—bid for dominance from a movement of lunatics, hard-liners, and the amorally ambitious.

But it had been relevant to her for years, for reasons more personal and painful than the destruction of any planet.

_ Which of those categories does Ben fit in? _ Leia wondered. He wasn’t amoral; she couldn’t bring herself to believe that, even after all these years and all the things she knew he’d done. Knew because sometimes it felt personal, the things he did. Like he’d specifically chosen the things that would hurt her most. They weren’t cold and calculated; they were the actions of an agitated child slapping out in the ways that would hurt most.

And yet she remembered him as a sweet, sensitive boy. Prone to sadness and sudden bursts of incandescent anger, but a loving boy who would cry if she got hurt and hang onto her as long as she let him.

She had no idea how they’d gotten from there to here, only that it hurt beyond measure.

No, she corrected herself harshly. She knew. She’d thought she could handle it, but she was wrong, and she was paying the price for her naiveté. Everyone was paying the price, Ben most of all. She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid.  _ She’d  _ done it, allowed a monster to take her son. She’d lost her own baby, and the creature who’d taken him had twisted her sweet boy into a caricature of the man who’d hurt her more than any other, a man she hated so much she still gave thanks on the anniversary of his death.

“General Organa, they’re preparing to turn off the scramblers,” piped C-3PO behind her. “If you would like to convene with the other officials in the control room?”

Leia pulled herself back from the past; she could get lost there if she wasn’t careful. She turned to the building they’d settled on as most appropriate for headquarters. On her way she passed a couple of scramblers, each with a tech beside it waiting for the signal to switch it off.

At every new base the Resistance settled on, the first thing set up were the scramblers, crude, old-fashioned, highly effective relics from the struggle against the Empire.  _ Just like me, _ Leia thought. They disrupted the planet’s electrical field, preventing the First Order from conducting an accurate scan of the planet. They were strictly a stopgap measure; scramblers interfered with the use of the Resistance’s more sophisticated technology, but provided some breathing room to unpack and set the equipment up. The moments between turning off the scramblers and booting the standard defense system were always tense.

Techs swarmed over the control room, many still setting up equipment. They launched the systems in phases, because the scramblers’ battery life was very limited; they’d fail long before most of the systems had been brought online. But with the scramblers down, the returning fighters could approach the planet, so it should work out. This time.

C-3PO toddled in behind Leia. “Oh, I say! Thank the stars for Captain Solo! If it weren’t for him we’d surely be dead. I do hope this means he’ll be around more often. It’s been so long, I believe he hardly recognized me on Takodana. He seemed quite disconcerted.”

Leia winced and ignored him. How long Han was around anywhere, ever, was a mystery known only to him. He was the breeze, and nothing could anchor him in one place.

She couldn’t, at least. That much had been clear for years.

Leia was setting up her office when Poe’s squadron returned. Word had already arrived that the strike on Starkiller Base had succeeded; after the initial flush of joy, they’d returned to the business of transforming the abandoned outpost into a functional base. There’d be time to celebrate later, after they’d fortified their new home.

When word came that the  _ Millennium Falcon _ had landed, Leia left the control room and headed out, trying to tamp down her expectations. Han and Chewie had survived—and maybe they had a passenger with them. The one she had asked Han to retrieve. The one who had been on her mind nonstop for 15 years.

If he wasn’t with Han, then he was on Starkiller during the attack. If he was on Starkiller during the attack, he had likely never left Starkiller.

She would have felt it, surely. Felt if her son’s precious life had been snuffed out before she could see him or touch his face or even find out if he’d grown into his ears. Wouldn’t she?

She was seized, by an almost overwhelming impulse to turn around and return to her office. If she didn’t see Han disembark without Ben, she wouldn’t have to face the fact that her son was likely dead, killed in an attack she’d ordered. That every decision she’d made, starting back when she’d sent him to study with Luke, had pushed her son away from her and into the exact place where he’d die. That of all the places in this endless universe, out of all the people who’d ever been born, she’d killed the person she loved most in the galaxy from systems away. 

She’d been born a princess and grown up in splendor, then watched everything she loved destroyed. She’d fought for years, not to avenge her family and her home, but for the basic right of worlds to govern themselves. She’d endured torture and enslavement and had killed with her bare hands when necessary, but she somehow couldn’t accept that the galaxy could be so cruel as to end things this way.

But Leia had never allowed herself the comfort of cowardice, so she squared her shoulders and marched out to the landing field. Then she saw them: Han, with Chewie by his side. And trailing them—just after—was a man, a young one, slim, head down—

It was Finn. And then for a long moment Leia stopped moving, stopped thinking. For the first time in her life she surrendered, and let her mind float in nothingness. Because nothingness didn’t hurt.

* * *

When Han approached she saw her own grief reflected in his face. It was a shadow to what she was feeling, but Han had never been comfortable sharing emotions other than joy or anger. She knew him as she knew herself, and she knew that he was still struggling against his feelings. It would take weeks or more before he allowed the totality of their loss to hit him, and by then he would be in another system, without her gaze to reproach him.

She spoke first. “He wouldn’t come.”

He stopped a couple of feet from her and shook his head. “I never even saw him.”

“Then he’s…”

“He might not have been on the base, Leia. We couldn’t find the girl, either. He might have taken her someplace else. Some other base, a star destroyer. He could be anywhere.”

Her eyes were steady. “Do you believe that?”

For a terrible moment his eyes welled up. Then he set his jaw and refused the tears, and for once she was glad, pathetically, inexpressibly glad, of his inability to deal with sadness.

To deal with Ben.

* * *

Poe Dameron collected Finn, who was distraught over his inability to find his friend, Rey. At Leia’s request Poe asked him a few questions about where Rey—and Ben—might have been other than the destroyed weapon-planet. All he could suggest was the  _ Finalizer _ , the First Order’s massive battlecruiser; Ben apparently often made use of it. 

That was where he’d interrogated Poe.

But the  _ Finalizer _ was last known to be orbiting Starkiller, and Leia couldn’t see why Ben would bother with it rather than electing for the comparative comfort of the base. Even the most luxurious warship could not compare to a base, particularly one as carefully planned as Starkiller. It was meant to be the pride of the First Order.

Others could take comfort in fiction. Her son was not on board the  _ Finalizer. _

It began to grow dark in the quarters that had been designated as hers. She should be in the control room, really. She was a general, and that was her place. Or at least in her office, signaling her availability, her devotion to the duty she’d never shirked.

But the Resistance could do without her for once. She didn’t turn on the lights, or even check to see if the power had been restored to the living quarters.

She was content to stay in the dark, and the hell with the rest of them.

* * *

It didn’t register when the door opened and softly closed. It wasn’t until the cot dipped that she realized Han had entered the room, sitting in the growing dark with her. He wrapped his hands around hers and squeezed jerkily, then tightly, painfully tight. She pretended the tears in her eyes were from the pain.

“He’s been gone for a long time.” Han’s voice was tentative.

Han Solo was never tentative.

“This is—it’s not different. Not really. This time we just won’t wonder anymore. We’ve been wondering for 15 years. Fifteen years is—” his voice began to crack. He gasped a little, seemed to steel himself before continuing. “Fifteen years is a long time to wonder. It’s like being dangled from a cliff every day of your life. We can say goodbye to him, Leia. We can mourn the boy he was and move on, finally.”

At that her grief overflowed and she began sobbing. Her boy, her sweet beautiful boy. He’d loved dogs and sunfruit and when she sang to him at bedtime, and he was gone because she hadn’t protected him. The only thing in her life that had really mattered, and that monster Snoke had smothered that sweetness until Ben couldn’t even wear his own name because he thought there was no  _ Ben _ left in him. Snoke had stolen her son, tried to hollow him out and fill the shell with his own evil.

She remembered how tightly Ben would hold her, bony arms almost bruising her in their intensity, and wished she could die with that memory in her mind. Within a year or two of joining Luke his hugs had become perfunctory. She’d thought her boy was growing up.

He’d never grown up. He’d never even had the chance.

She leaned against Han’s shoulder, allowing herself the rare private luxury of comfort. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her to him tightly, taking his own.

It was several minutes before either of them spoke.

Eventually she thought of the message he’d sent, and finally she stirred. “Did you use the code as a way to … feel close to him?”

“What do you mean?”

It was another long moment before she could continue. “There was a part of me that half-hoped you might have used the code as a signal. Just a little sign that he was with you. But it was the opposite, wasn’t it? A warning. You were trying to prepare me.”

“What code? Leia, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stared at him for only a moment before the sad realization struck. Han’s grief was affecting him even as he remained outwardly stoic.

She touched his face. If her heart still lived it would break for him. “The evacuation warning, Han. You sent it in that mixture of Bartok and Xaczik that we used when Ben was a boy. When we were a family.”

Han pulled her hand from his face, brow creasing. “I didn’t send any warning, sweetheart. I didn’t know anything was wrong until we approached D’Qar and picked up the beacon signal.”

She was not at her best right now, was so far from it it was a speck in the distance, so it took a moment for the implications of Han’s words to sink in. Her breathing, even her heartbeat seemed to cease while she examined the idea, then stuttered as joy flooded her, a candle fighting back the night.

“This doesn’t mean he’s alive,” Han cautioned. “Did you receive the message before the base collapsed or after?”

She searched her memory, fighting through the twin hazards of hope and grief. It was so close—right there—

Her memory cleared, and her heart cracked.

The candle flickered out, and darkness enveloped her once more.

* * *

The command meeting that evening wasn’t voluntary, even for Leia. Emergency base installations could not be taken lightly, and plans needed to be made to capitalize on the destruction of the First Order’s costly weapon.

The meeting was just underway when the comm officer entered apologetically. He quickly made his way to Leia and bent down to murmur in her ear. He kept glancing at Han, who’d been given a courtesy seat at her side. Han might not be an active member of the Resistance, but he was a great hero of the Rebellion as well as Leia’s husband. 

“General, we’ve received an incoming transmission. It seems to be in the same code as the message we received prior to the evacuation.”

For a moment Leia froze. Beside her, Han stood so abruptly his chair fell over.

“What is it?” General Morellan asked, alarmed.

Leia didn’t answer. She rushed to the control room, Han close on her heels. At her nod the comm officer played the message again.

_ ARRANGE A PRIVATE LINE. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU, MOTHER. _


	2. Chapter 2

The control room was functioning normally. Everyone was going about their business, acting as if the world hadn’t swung off its axis and begun to careen through space.

Leia couldn’t hear the traffic of the busy room, couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her heart, beating unnaturally loudly. Was it always that loud? Why hadn’t she noticed? Could everyone hear it? That wasn’t possible, surely. She was imagining it, imagining _ this _ . Her unconscious was attempting to soothe her grief, albeit in the cruellest way possible. She had survived unimaginable losses, so many of them, but she couldn’t survive this, and her mind was attempting to ease her way.

Then she became aware of the sound of Han’s breathing, ragged, almost gasping. This was actually happening. She wasn’t imagining it. Her son was alive, and he was reaching out to her.

She jerked into action. “Patch that through to my office. I want a private line. Highest security level.” She turned and hurried out of the control room, Han right behind her.

She waited until they were in her office and the door safely shut before she turned to Han, joyous and a little frightened.

He looked … worse. Filled with dread.

Her comm beeped and she snatched up the receiver. She didn’t turn on the speaker function; under no circumstances did she want any of this overheard. “Ben?”

“Hello, Mother.”

Her heart cracked. She strained to keep her emotion out of her voice, terrified of scaring him off. Her boy, who sat at the right hand of the being that terrorized the galaxy. She was afraid of scaring him off like a forest creature. “Thank you for sending the warning.”

There was no reply, and for a long moment Leia was afraid he’d cut off the transmission. Han grabbed the receiver, his hand over hers, and angled it so he could listen as well.

Finally Ben said, “I’ve left them. I can give you Snoke.”

Despite her best efforts a choking sob broke through. “I just want you.” Someday, maybe, she’d look back in astonishment at brushing aside the offer, but she didn’t care. She needed her son. She needed him back, desperately.

A longer pause, as if he hadn’t expected that response. “No, you need him. I’ll give him to the Resistance. But I want full immunity.”

“I don’t—I can’t—” How could she manage this? Convincing the Resistance command not to prosecute him was a distant goal, almost simple in comparison to her urgent need to keep her boy on the line, keep him talking to her. Keep him from disappearing into the First Order, into space, into the void that Snoke had tried so hard to turn him into and had maybe succeeded, but her boy had somehow managed to bring himself to hold out a hand, and she could take it, she was almost there, she just had to find the way. If she failed this time she knew she would never get another chance, and her boy would be gone forever.

“You’ll have it. Full immunity. You have my word.”

Han jerked back, aghast. Leia knew why: She didn’t have that power, no one person did, but right now she didn’t care. She would use all the respect she’d earned from a lifetime of service, every favor she was owed, and she would get her boy back, not in front of a firing squad or a tribunal or in a jail cell, but with her. She’d had years to contemplate every little decision she’d made that had allowed Snoke closer to him, and she’d throw her life’s work away to make things right.

Gladly. For her son she would do it gladly. The Resistance could guide itself, and the Republic could govern itself. If the galaxy was offering her a second chance with Ben she’d seize it no matter what the cost.

There was no answer from Ben. He was weighing her words, she knew. Deciding if they would be found wanting. The longer he hesitated the closer he was to accepting, she felt sure. He didn’t want to be rushed. He’d always hated being rushed.

To her horror, Han tipped the receiver towards himself. “Have you got the girl?”

Leia jerked the receiver back in time to hear a sharply indrawn breath. “This line doesn’t seem very private,” Ben said curtly.

“It’s just your father and me, Ben,” she assured him, fighting to keep the desperate edge from her voice. “No one else. He was there when the message came in.” She flashed Han a warning look. He looked frustrated, but didn’t protest.

“I’m here,” said a young woman with a Coruscanti accent. Leia hadn’t heard such a proper accent since she’d left the senate. Hadn’t Han and Finn said the girl was a scavenger from Jakku? How curious that a girl from Coruscant would be found in such circumstances.

Circumstances like a princess being a rebel leader, or a legendary knight choosing exile rather than service.  _ Maybe there’s no such thing as appropriate circumstances. _

“So how do we proceed?” Leia asked gingerly.

“I assume you have to clear this with the Resistance command.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Leia said hastily, cursing her uncharacteristically sluggish mind. “But you’re—Ben, you’re coming back, aren’t you? You’re not just arranging for your freedom. You have to come back. That’s my part of it. I’ll get you the immunity, and you’ll come back.”

“Snoke is your part of it.”

“Snoke is for the Resistance. You can buy them with him. I can buy them  _ for you  _ with him. But you’re coming home to me. That’s my price.”

Another long silence followed, very long. Eventually a sigh filtered over the line. “All right. I suggest you talk to them as soon as possible. The destruction of Starkiller Base has sent the First Order into disarray. The longer the attack on Snoke is delayed, the more time they have to regroup. Right now I can reasonably be unaccounted for by the panic of evacuation, but soon he’ll begin to wonder where I am. You’ll lose your best chance at him if you don’t act soon. There isn’t time for the usual debate.”

“I’ll push it through,” she said, steel beginning to enter her tone.

There was a faint sound over the receiver—a soft laugh? She couldn’t tell.

“I’ll contact you in an hour. You can tell me the verdict then.”

The line hummed, signaling that the connection had been severed.

Han turned to her, wariness and fear almost hiding the hope on his face. “Is it a trick?”

“No. No, Han. It’s our son. He’s coming home.”

* * *

The conference room of the new Resistance base was completely silent. Leia was fairly certain she knew what everyone was thinking: That she was so desperate that she’d abandon her ideals and everything she’d fought for to save her son.

They were absolutely right.

“You’re telling us that Kylo Ren—the leader of the Knights of Ren—is actually an undercover operative?” asked General Dāran carefully. The youngest member of the executive command, she wasn’t quite able to keep the disbelief from her voice.

“Yes,” Leia answered with complete self-assurance. She had no doubt she could get this done, because there was no alternative. The others would agree; she would accept nothing less.

“For all these years?”

“Snoke began his attempts to lure my son to the dark side while he was still very young. Luke spent many years training Ben to resist him.” That had been the plan, at least. “I offered Ben the choice to help, just as I’d been offered the choice when I was young. Ben accepted.”

“You risked your own child?” General Morellan said with more skepticism than Leia wanted to hear. This was going to happen, no matter what she had to do.

“I’ve risked  _ everything _ ,” Leia choked. “I’ve given my entire life to seeking freedom from tyranny. I’ve worked for nothing else since I was a child. My parents gave their lives in the struggle. It’s in my blood. And Ben’s.”

The command room was silent for a long moment, letting the intensity of Leia’s words settle over them. They couldn’t argue with her assertion. Generations of Organas and Skywalkers were venerated for their bravery. Han Solo, too, had covered himself in glory in the fight against the Empire. It was not hard to believe that her son could give up so many years of his life to aid in the fight, but Kylo Ren was not a functionary who sat back and allowed others to get dirty. Kylo Ren was Snoke’s right hand. Just as his grandfather had been for Darth Sidious.

For while the general’s bloodline was filled with great heroes, it also throbbed with darkness.

Leia reached for calm. Surely they would see the good in her family outweighed the bad. So many in her family had fought so hard, lost so much, for the good of the galaxy. Vader had doomed Padmé, destroyed Leia’s home and parents, tortured her, condemned Han to nothingness, and finally destroyed her political career. The Force had to bend to good sometimes. After all she’d endured, it must. She had paid the price, and she was owed it.

A few of the command staff glanced around the table, plainly trying to suss out what the others were thinking.

“There is no record of this,” croaked Admiral Ackbar.

“It was ears only. General Hallan and I planned it together, and Chancellor Villecham and Secretary Rousli approved it.”

“All three of them were killed in the attack on Hosnian Prime,” Morellan pointed out. “There’s no one to confirm this.”

Leia allowed a sting enter her voice. “I’m confirming it right now.”

“If this has been your plan all along, why did you initially announce that the message used to warn us from D’Qar was originally from General Solo?” Morellan challenged.

“Ben was a deeply embedded agent, not a low-level spy. He was in a position to acquire the knowledge to bring down the First Order from the very highest level. That’s what he’s doing now. The First Order is no longer a fringe danger. When our fighters blew up Starkiller Base, he knew he could deal them a killing blow before they could regroup. He waited for his best chance, then he took it. Just like I raised him to.”

Dāran frowned. “And you expect … assurances? For an agent for whom we have no record?”

“My son risked his life for the Republic, and he’s risking it right now,” Leia said, her voice beginning to shake. In the quiet of her mind she reached for the Force, that unfathomable power she’d largely left to her brother and son, and used it to coat her words with persuasion. “He’d be safer maintaining his cover, but he took the risk because it’s the best chance we’ll ever have to take down Snoke.”

“How so?”

“He can give us coordinates for Snoke’s location. With the First Order scrambling to regroup, we have a narrow window in which Snoke is vulnerable.”

“Where is he?” Morellan asked urgently.

“I’ll tell you that when I have a guarantee that my son will be immune from prosecution.”

Morellan’s eyes narrowed. “He’s putting conditions on the information?” 

“ _ I’m  _ putting conditions on it,” Leia shot back. “My son has risked his life for years. I’m not letting him come home if I’m not confident of his welcome.”

Ackbar twitched in surprise. “That’s not like you, General. You’ve always put the welfare of the Republic first.”

_ Yes, I have _ , she thought with a pang. “I’m putting it first now,” she said. The lie didn’t even prick at her conscience. “And all of you know me well enough to know I mean what I’m saying. I’m not calling him in without that guarantee. And if this discussion goes on much longer the decision won’t matter, because we’ll have lost our chance.”

* * *

Rey clenched her fists, desperate to do something. The preferable thing would be to hit the monster who had taken her, but she wasn’t so sure anymore about him being a monster. He’d pushed into her head and slipped through her thoughts as if he had the right to, but then he’d freed her. No torture. No … inappropriateness. Just helped her escape from the base.

She could have done it herself. She’d still been working out how to escape her bonds, but once she’d figured it out she would have been out of the cell in no time.

But she might not have gotten off the planet soon enough. And if she hadn’t…

The image of the planet crumbling in on itself, fires eating it from within, would never leave her. She was tough. She was resourceful. But she couldn’t have strode into the docking bay like she owned it, commandeered a ship, and flown off without a fight, like he had. He’d walked her through the base and people had jumped to get out of their way, no questions asked. When they’d boarded the shuttle, other departures had been delayed to accommodate them, even in the midst of the attack. Probably most of the ships in the hanger had been destroyed with the planet. Only so many could depart at once, and it had only taken a few minutes for the Resistance to obliterate the planet.

“What do you want?”

Rey jerked her head up to look at her captor. Or her rescuer? She didn’t see how he could be both, but he was. Kylo wasn’t wearing a mask, and his face was painfully open.

She wasn’t sure she liked him focusing on her, sort-of rescuer or not. He hadn’t so much as glanced at her since they’d left the planet. He’d motioned her to the comm during his tense discussion with his mother—the legendary General Leia Organa, she’d taken it—and then brushed her back after she’d spoken. Since then he’d slumped in the pilot’s chair, frustration and anxiety passing in waves over his face.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she answered honestly. She’d looked right inside his head, straight to a writhing mass of tension and insecurity, but she had no idea why he would ever care what she wanted.

But he had chosen to help her, this strange boy, so she was putting her skepticism on hold. For the moment.

“It looks like I might be going to the Resistance. If that happens you’ll come with me. After that you can head out to wherever you want.”

“And if it doesn’t happen?”

“That’s what I’m asking. What do you want?”

Rey didn’t hesitate. “I have to go back to—”

“Don’t say Jakku. There’s nothing for you there. You shouldn’t lie to yourself any longer.”

“My family—”

“Isn’t coming back. They wouldn’t abandon a child and then come back for an adult. Would you even want to be with people who’d do that?”

She looked away, tears stinging her eyes. She gritted her teeth and forced them back.

“You have to train.”

She swung around. “What?”

“In the Force. You’re extremely strong, that’s how you were able to push me out of your mind and dig into mine. Luke Skywalker can train you. Maybe. If he comes back. He’s good at it,” he added reluctantly.

“Is that why you wanted the map? To train with him?”

Kylo chuckled, the sound bitter. They both winced a little. “I think I’ve studied with him as much as I’m going to.”

“But you think I should train with him?”

His gaze slid past her to land on the wall. “I think you should train,” he hedged. “If you don’t want to train with him, you can train with someone else.”

“Who else could there be? I thought Jedi were a myth.”

He mumbled something she couldn’t make out.

“What?”

He gritted his teeth. “You could train with me.”

“After what you did to me?” she demanded in disbelief.

“If you mean released you from captivity, then yes.”

She bit out a laugh. “ _ You’re  _ the reason I was in captivity.”

“I was gentle with you. Gentler than you can know.”

“It didn’t  _ feel  _ gentle.”

He stared at her, his dark eyes stormy. They were always stormy, she thought. The only time they hadn’t been was when he was contemplating the wall after his discussion with his parents and disappeared somewhere inside his head. But when talking with her—or them—his eyes were angry-sad, locked somewhere between rage and tears. Madness and sadness. She could feel both coursing over him.

“Do you remember what the stormtrooper who interrupted our discussion said?”

A  _ discussion _ . A discussion in which one of the participants was chained to a torture chair. Even if there had been no torture. “Yes.”

“He said my master wanted to see me. The Supreme Leader doesn’t normally interrupt my sessions. But this was about Luke Skywalker, and that matters to him. And when I told him that you were resisting my attempts, he commanded me to bring you to him. He said he was going to show me the dark side.”

Rey froze, comprehending, with a sickening suddenness, how much danger she’d been in on that base. When she woke up in the chair she’d been angry and a little frightened, but had somehow not doubted that she’d be able to get away. Her struggles on Jakku had been constant, but had left her with a deep confidence in herself. It was a harsh and pitiless world, and she had survived it. No one had taken care of her but herself.

But she knew, from her glimpse into Kylo Ren’s mind, that she would have been helpless against Snoke.

His voice drew her back to the present. “And if I had done that, scavenger, you would have realized exactly how gentle I’d been with you.”

A part of her didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want the image in her head, where she could examine it and terrify herself in retrospect. And yet—“What would he have done?”

“Torn his way into your mind. Ripped down every paltry defense you could muster and burn through you as if your pain were fuel. If he was being kind you’d be in agony for days afterward. If he wasn’t, your mind would be broken beyond repair, and he’d have a stormtrooper put you down. The Supreme Leader is not known for his kindness.”

Rey was aghast. “Why would you follow someone like that?”

His eyes were heavy upon her and gave nothing away, but a sense of grief washed over her. She had an impulse, sudden and stupid, to apologize for prying. He was helping her. His cruel master had demanded her on a silver platter, and he’d refused. For some reason, he’d refused.

Instead he’d unlocked her shackles, thrown a cloak over her, and spirited her away from the besieged base. And now she could deliver the message to the Resistance and join them, or go back to Jakku to wait for her family and pretend none of this had ever happened.

He’d given her her life back. He’d taken her, invaded her mind, but freed her. And hadn’t tried to punish her for pushing back into him, despite his dismay. He was strange and unknowable, a shuttered window, yet she knew him. Part of him. She’d seen his secrets and felt them too, and knew his mask was crumbling. She’d watched his shoulders tense when he spoke to his mother, crept far enough to the side to see vulnerability edge into his face when his mother insisted he return. And seen him recoil when Han Solo spoke. His own father! How could anyone look so upset when hearing their father? She couldn’t understand it. She would have given a week’s rations to hear her father’s voice. For her father to care enough to try to save her.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

She jerked her head up. She’d forgotten he was there, somehow. “What?”

“You don’t have to tell me what you’re going to do. But you’ll have to reach some decision. A better decision than ‘Go back to Jakku.’”

If she didn’t go back to Jakku, her family couldn’t find her.

If she did go back to Jakku, her life was unchanged. And her family wouldn’t find her, because they hadn’t. She’d been there for 15 years, waiting, and they weren’t suddenly going to come now. They were dead, or maybe they just didn’t care about some little girl they’d dumped on Jakku with the other garbage. Their lives went on without her and hers had stood still waiting for them.

Because waiting was the only life she knew.

* * *

He sent the same message as the last time, in the same code. There was really no reason to alter it.

This time his mother opened a line immediately and began to speak rapidly, giving him no chance to break in. “Ben, I want to tell you how overjoyed everyone with the Resistance is to welcome a returning hero back into their arms after so many years undercover with the First Order. It’s been hard for your father and I, but we know how much you wanted to bring down the First Order. With the information you’ve obtained, all those years we’ve all sacrificed won’t have been in vain. You’re going to have a triumphant homecoming, Ben.”

Of course. Of course she’d managed it, the great Leia Organa, who sent her son away but kept a galactic government afloat. This was in her wheelhouse in a way that cookies and milk had never been.

Rey grabbed his arm, giving him a warning glance. He shook her off and leaned forward. “I’m very glad, Mother.” To his mortification his voice softened. “I’ve … missed you.”

Leia’s voice was thick. “I’ve missed you, my darling. I’ll transmit the coordinates now.”

“We’ll be there soon.”

He didn’t turn around after terminating the call, and Rey let him be. 

These were his last moments of freedom. His mother may have smoothed the way for him, but he was trapped nonetheless. Pulled back into a family that had pushed him out 20 years before, expected to live a lie.

He was going from servant to son. From mendicant to supplicant.

His head sagged. 

Kylo Ren or Ben Solo, his life would never be his own.

* * *

Kylo Ren was used to tension. It had been a part of his life every day for as long as he could remember. Tension at his mother’s absence, Han Solo’s disaffection, Luke Skywalker’s disapproval. Tension as he attempted to learn how best to please his master, an impossible task. How can you predict the desires of a god? Even after his stature had grown and he operated with a degree of autonomy, he’d been forced to consort with First Order officers and dignitaries who had no understanding of the delicacy of his position. They thought he was an attack dog. In reality he was less a soldier than a religieux whose vows including combat. His life was ascetic. 

_ Acidic _ , he corrected himself. It was an acidic field where no seed could grow.

Kylo reached for his helmet, and even as he took it he realized he couldn’t wear it. His mother’s desperate lie would never hold if he went out there as the first among the Knights of Ren.

“Your cowl, too,” the girl instructed.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re supposed to act like you weren’t really with the First Order, right? Then take off the cowl. And the gloves. If you wear them, nobody’s going to think of you as anything but Kylo Ren.”

He could feel no ill will coming from her, but the kindness felt like a trap. “Why would you help me?”

“Why would you save me?”

He had no answer to that, at least none he could articulate. Wordlessly he removed his cowl and gloves as directed.

If he did come up with a reason, he wasn’t sure either of them would want to hear it.

* * *

They weren’t meeting at the Resistance’s new base, that was obvious. Unless the new base was an exceedingly well-hidden bunker. If it was, they’d upped their game.

The coordinates his mother had relayed took them exactly into the middle of nowhere. A field with low-lying grasses and wildflowers, some distant mountains that were thickly forested. Beside him he could feel the girl, Rey, vibrating with excitement. This lush world was an opposite to the wasteland she’d been consigned to as a child.

Strange that any parent would leave their child in such a place. But he knew that even the most basic nurturing did not come naturally to some people. He had more experience with that than he cared to think of.

Two trucks waited at the side of the meadow, a cluster of people standing around them, waiting for them to disembark.

For him, he corrected himself. No one was worried that Rey was leading them into a trap. As far as they were concerned, she was just detritus. It was funny, in a grim way. It was the same way the Supreme Leader had regarded her.

He released the ramp. If he really was still Ben Solo he would have gestured for Rey to go first. Of course, he didn’t think putting her between him and the Resistance would actually be a courteous gesture, but he doubted she was aware of the New Galactic Republic’s social conventions in any event. He’d saved her life, so she was grateful. He found it a more honest exchange than the elaborate, deceptive courtesies the so-called civilized world favored.

He started down the ramp, leaving Rey to trail in his wake and perhaps miss a bolt or two of the possible barrage.

The welcoming party was small, and, as he got closer, he could see that they didn’t seem armed.  _ She _ was right in front, looking strangely tiny. Had she always been that small? She had to be several inches shorter than the scavenger. And worn, like she never slept. But the look on her face—the look was so tender, so loving, that it stabbed at him, an actual pain in his chest. He must have stopped, because Rey ran into him with a soft thud.

She stepped around him and surveyed the random assortment of people sent to greet them. She spotted Han Solo and brightened up, then looked up at Kylo, her gaze searching.

Her hand, warm and strong, slipped into his. He flinched, and she squeezed warningly. She started down the ramp and gave his hand a tug, and he followed like a house pet. He had saved her, and now it appeared she was returning the favor.

His mother couldn’t wait any longer, and rushed to him, throwing her arms around him. She fit completely under his arms, so small. He couldn’t believe he’d once fit in her arms. She was shaking, sobbing silently, and despite himself he could feel his hands moving soothingly down her back. He had to step away, had to get away, but he couldn’t move. She had lanced him through with her pain.

He began to shake as well. His eyes ached and he forced his weakness back, but he couldn’t let go of her, burying his face where her neck met her shoulder, that place he had always sought comfort when she had been the tall one and he the one who needed reassurance.

She smelled the same.

His breath caught once, just once, before he mastered his vulnerability.

“Welcome home, son.”

Kylo looked up. It hadn’t been his mother who spoke, but Han Solo.

It was a long moment before he could bring himself to meet his father’s eyes. There had been a time, once, when he would have given up everything to hear those words from him.

His father looked guarded, as he often had around Kylo, even back when he was Ben Solo. Kylo had seen holos, in later childhood, of his father playing with him when he was very young, looking happy and open. He wondered when it was that he had moved from being Han Solo’s son to some strange other to be regarded with suspicion. Which had manifested earlier—his powers in the Force, or his occasional moroseness? Either would be anathema to Han Solo. He was made for music and clear skies, not tears and unknowable powers.

And now Kylo was trapped with him, unless Han took off for parts unknown. He could stand his mother. With her arms around him he could finally feel his heart beat again, even if it was lying to him. But his father—

In the distance a familiar glint caught his eye. He stared at it. Considered his options. Shrugged to himself. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really.

When the little convoy was ready to leave, the shuttle loaded onto a set of hover pods and hooked to the back of one of the trucks, Kylo boarded with the rest of them. He looked at his mother, at the officials she introduced him to, at Rey. They were almost at the entrance to a tunnel before he glanced back.

The glint was still there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to IshaRen, who edited the first two chapters, and ChecktheHolonet, who's kindly taken over for her!

They tried not to rush him through camp, but they weren’t very good at hiding their anxiety. For this Kylo couldn’t blame them; indeed, he felt a rare moment of sympathy for the Resistance. The more time that passed before the strike against the Supreme Leader, the less its likelihood of success. And Kylo very much wanted the attack to be a success. The parasite that had latched onto him in childhood and slowly drained away his life was right now vulnerable as he had never before been.

If they didn’t take this chance to end him, the galaxy would fall to a darkness beyond comprehension, beyond words. Sidious, for all his corruption, had been a man.

Snoke had never been close to human.

No, Kylo couldn’t lie to himself—not any longer. It wasn’t the galaxy that concerned him, not really. It was himself. It was his mother. It was the girl.

That stupid girl, with her stupid buns and her stupid watchful eyes that had looked at him, really looked, and seen into him. Even before she’d forced him out of her mind and then pushed into his, she’d looked at him like she’d known him. Like she’d seen every bit of him, every hidden scrap, and found him wanting.

But still she couldn’t stop looking, any more than he could.

He couldn’t stop when they were on Takodana, and he sure as hell couldn’t stop on Starkiller.

If he wasn’t feeling sick to his stomach he’d probably be staring at her right now. But at the moment, with his mother fastened to his arm and his father right behind them—Kylo could feel his eyes, heavy with suspicion, on his back—all he could think about was the result of his disastrous choice. Somehow he’d ended up on this armpit of a base, with people looking him right in his bare face, some admiring, some fearful.

Some mistrustful. Despite his mother’s assurances, not everyone was convinced by her story.

Apparently the Resistance wasn’t exclusively made up of morons.

But this time … this time they had him. He need them to get rid of Snoke. He couldn’t do it on his own, or he wouldn’t have even involved the Resistance. But his mother’s conditions tied him to them, to _her_ , in a way that discomfited him beyond measure. He had been a stripling when he went to Snoke, profoundly young and stupid. After the fear, the indoctrination, the pain, the praise, very little of Ben Solo remained in Kylo Ren. The aggravating pull towards his mother, the affection he had been unable to dig out of his heart, was a shameful weakness he had striven to hide. It was a relic of the dead, not proof that his former self still remained.

There was a shout to the side and Rey broke away from the group to run to someone with unhidden delight.

FN-2187. The traitor he’d stupidly allowed to live.

Kylo stared at them— _embracing!_ —but the girl spared him no backwards glance. And still his jailers walked on until they were inside a squat duracrete box bustling with Resistance members, apparently still setting up their new headquarters. His mother led them through a series of corridors until they were inside a conference room, the table surrounded by faces he recognized from holos.

And, some, from his past. Some of them he’d known from earliest childhood; he couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t known them. There were there from his first memories, like his mother.

Like Snoke. Who unlike his mother, had been there all the time. He’d had endless time for little Ben Solo.

Once upon a time he’d found some of these people intimidating; some had impressed him. For more than a decade he’d been carrying out missions that would result in the destruction of all of them, these architects of the New Republic. These idealists and hypocrites.

He tilted his chin higher. _Let them judge him._

His mother flashed him a look that included more than any at the table could know, edged as it was with the Force. He was not on trial because she would not allow it. Nor would she allow his defiance.

It was as if he had stepped back in time 20 years. He was a child again, without agency or recourse.

The energy brushing at him changed, softened. _This time is different,_ she seemed to promise.

Maybe this time she actually understood how dangerous Snoke was.

Kylo sat obediently in the seat his mother indicated, like a good little puppet. She sank down beside him.

His father was somewhere behind him. Of course he wasn’t at his side. Why would now be different?

“Kylo Ren,” began a man seated across from him.

“ _Ben Solo_ ,” his mother corrected, her tone steely.

_Ben Solo,_ thought Kylo. He was Ben Solo now.

The man across the table looked frustrated. “Of course. No offense, General.”

“None taken, General Morellan.”

“I just think it’s important that we establish bona fides—”

“Bona fides were established before I brought my son in from his mission, General.”

“Nothing was established, you presented us with your story and we had no choice but to go along with it—”

“I wouldn’t say you have no choice,” returned his mother evenly. “You had every choice. Naturally, choosing not to recognize his service would also include ignoring the information he’s obtained at extraordinary personal cost.”

“A choice that’s made under duress can’t possibly be consi—”

Talking. It would be nothing but talking, talking for hours. Kylo knew this, he knew the way of the Republic, and it was unacceptable. He might have to pretend to be Ben Solo for the rest of his life, but if they didn’t move quickly it would all be for nothing.

He leaned forward. “If you want to kill Snoke, you have to act now. No more sitting around debating like it’s all theoretical. You get a strike team together and send it out _now_ , and if you’re lucky the First Order hasn’t begun to regroup. If they have they’ll realize I’m missing, and you’ll have missed your opportunity. He’ll relocate to god knows where, and you’re all done for. This is it. This is your chance. You’re not getting another one with him.”

Silence fell over the table, but he could feel anxious energy swirling. Across the table Admiral Ackbar, who hadn’t aged in the 20 years since Kylo had last seen him, leaned forward. He’d been a figure of fascination in Kylo’s childhood, but his mother had always tried to keep him away from the war hero due to Kylo’s tendency to giggle in delight at his croaky voice. His voice, now, showed the age that wasn’t visible on his face. “Where is he?”

“One of Chahrr’s smaller moons. Mallachior.” A ripple of shock went through the room.

“Chahrr is in the Core,” protested a woman on the other side of the table. Clearly they’d been under the impression that he’d been hiding in some remote spot on the far reaches of space.

That wasn’t Snoke’s way. He’d been right in plain sight.

“That’s why he chose it. He wanted a central location. Easier to keep the galaxy under his thumb that way.”

“I’m familiar with Mallachior,” said a man a few seats away. “The Empire overmined it. It’s unstable and saturated with radiation from overuse of energy charges. It’s not habitable.”

“It is unstable, but First Order engineers were able to reduce the radiation to levels that don’t affect Snoke. Humans can tolerate it for limited periods if they take a course of nebuteren.”

“Nebuteren tends to develop toxicity in humans,” pointed out a weedy redhead. Kylo instinctively disliked.

They really were all idiots, weren’t they? “Gods don’t concern themselves with gnats. Mallachior is right off a hyperdrive corridor and nobody goes there, and that was his criteria. Right now it’s barely staffed. Most First Order personnel were on Starkiller Base to attend the—” he hesitated. A chill had entered the room with his last few words, and he could sense a cell door opening, regardless of guarantee. “It’s minimally defended at the moment. A few of the shafts have a quite a bit of gnossis remaining—highly volatile. A missile in one of those shafts will ignite it. If you choose the right shaft, the Supr—Snoke will be vaporized before the moon even collapses.”

“A reconnaissance party could confirm this?”

“ _A reconnaissance party will tip your hand._ If you want Snoke to relocate and dig himself someplace you’ll never find him, go ahead. If you actually want to take him out, send in a strike team and do it now. There’s no time to waste.”

The one his mother had called General Morellan looked frustrated. There was someone like him in every command meeting everywhere, the person who thought saying “But…” made him look discerning. Kylo decided he hated the man. “That’s a considerable leap of faith you’re asking for, young man.”

Kylo’s response was soft. “I’m not young anymore.”

Beside him, his mother shuddered and put her hand on his arm. “My son risked his life to get us this information. We’ll never get another chance like it.”

* * *

He was alone. Ostensibly. Kylo knew that if he opened the door of the so-called lounge, there would be guards there, many guards, and despite his mother’s standing, their blasters would be set to kill.

If those useless Resistance pilots botched this up, he’d be the one paying for it.

Damn Snoke, and damn the Resistance. The Supreme Leader had been under their noses the entire time, and they’d been too incompetent to find him. The Resistance couldn’t find its way out of a one-room shack without a sign over the door.

Right now Poe Dameron was piloting the shuttle Kylo had taken from Starkiller Base, armed with Kylo’s own access code. It would get him inside the defense system and allow him to target the moon’s crumbling mineshafts.

And just in case Dameron didn’t make it, there would be a clutch of X-wings coming out of hyperdrive a couple of minutes later to ensure the job was finished. The guards wouldn’t allow them access, of course, but there’d be enough fighters to take out the skeleton crew and complete the mission.

The thought of killing Snoke, the spider who’d trapped and suffocated Kylo when he was young and foolish and still had a life to ruin, made him clench his fists in envy. If he’d thought he could manage it himself, he wouldn’t have involved the Resistance at all. But he’d been the Supreme Leader’s toy for too long. Snoke would have pushed into Kylo’s mind the moment he entered the atmosphere, pushed in and divined his treachery. Kylo would have been dead before he could even train his sights on the mine shaft.

_If_ he’d held onto his determination. If he hadn’t felt the Supreme Leader’s power and crumbled like the weakling he was, unable to find the resolve to save the galaxy or even himself.

The door slid open, and Kylo turned to see his mother slip through it. Before the door closed he saw a guard peer into the room, plainly curious.

“No word yet,” his mother said with incongruous lightness. Annoyance plucked at him for a moment before subsiding. She was worried too. Worried that she’d pulled her son back just to lose him to a tribunal.

He closed his eyes, forcing back his emotions. He’d served under the galaxy’s darkest evil for years, a being further gone than Vader had ever been. One to whom the temptations of affection or even biology was beneath recognition, much less consideration. He could maintain his composure in this mildly tense situation. It was the least of any test he’d had.

“Eat, Ben,” his mother said, touching his hand.

Kylo opened his eyes to see his mother sitting beside him, nudging a packet of rations at him.

“I wish it was something fresh, but we’re still unpacking. Because of you. We’re alive—the Resistance is alive—” she broke off. “ _I’m_ alive. I’m alive because of you, darling.”

He looked down at the table. He had no idea what to say.

After all these years, maybe there was nothing he _could_ say.

He was surprised, then, that he actually did speak. “Where’s the girl?”

His mother looked perplexed.

“Rey.”

Her expression changed, and the look now on her face raised his guard. It was—-it suggested—

He had no idea. It had been so long he could no longer recall the expression.

“Did she convince you to leave the First Order?”

Kylo scowled. _Ridiculous_. It had nothing to do with the girl. She was merely there, and he took pity on her.

They were the only young Force sensitives in the whole vast galaxy. It was natural he would feel a kinship to her. It was coincidence, nothing more.

Well, the only young Force sensitives who weren’t among the Knights of Ren. But they were weaker than he and the girl, much weaker, a mere reflection of their blazing suns.

“The only thing she _convinced me_ of was to leave my helmet on the shuttle.”

His mother raised her eyebrows. “It sounds like she gives good advice.” She nudged the packet of food. “Eat, please.” Obediently he tore open the wrapper and bit off a piece of a protein bar. It was salty and dry, and he’d eaten a thousand similar ones on missions for the First Order. Theirs had been chewier.

His mother pulled the cap from a bottle of water, then handed it to him, watching him closely. She seemed determined to fuss over him like a bird with one chick, something she’d seldom done when he was a child. He would have welcomed it. Then, she’d always just been heading out the door with a promise to try to make it home before he fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure why she was choosing to dote now. With the destruction of the senate, she was needed more than ever. If it had been so important when he was young, surely it was beyond his worth now.

Maybe it wasn’t only Snoke who didn’t understand humans.

* * *

He’d finally grown into his face. If he hadn’t left them so many years ago—if he hadn’t mortified himself behind that mask—he would have had to fight off the women. Just like his father.

But his dark eyes, were the saddest thing she’d ever seen. Somehow they seemed bruised. It hurt her heart.

She couldn’t resist pushing back his hair to look at his ears. He was still as she fussed over him. She couldn’t tell if it was because it disturbed him, or maybe it was just the unfamiliarity of it. As a small child, he’d been a cuddler.

Leia smiled to see his ears still stood out like handles; he’d just grown his hair long, even longer than his father’s, to cover them. It had darkened since the last time she’d seen it; back in their days as a family on Hosnian Prime it had been deep brown and lightened under the sun, sometimes throwing off gold glints.

Now it was dark as a helmet she’d last seen before he was even born, a helmet she’d hated then, and feared later. When Vader was alive she had hated him beyond measure, but long after his death, she’d grown to fear his influence.

Her fear had been prophetic. Her love, and Luke’s guidance, hadn’t been enough to save her son.

Only Ben had been able to save himself.

“I’ve missed your ears,” she said.

Ben’s pinkened. He looked away, patting his hair back into place. She wanted to push it away again and stare her fill at her beautiful boy. For so long she’d had only the memory of a morose child and a few images from Luke of a spindly adolescent. For so long she’d stared at holos of a tall figure in black, face hidden. The first time she’d seen him costumed as master of the Knights of Ren, she’d lost her breath. It had been days before she’d been able to take a second look at the holo of her son wearing black robes and an obsidian mask.

It was her worst fear come to life, the monster who’d fathered her subsuming her son.

Of all the ways Vader could have hurt her, this was the sharpest, the last and worst torture he could inflict on the daughter he’d never acknowledged.

It washed over her with the ease of familiarity, the rage that had never left her since she saw everything she loved vaporized as the former Anakin Skywalker forced her to watch. She had betrayed her deepest principles—every example set by Bail, her true father, the father of her heart—in a desperate attempt to save Alderaan, and still she had lost.

With a jolt, she realized her breathing was ragged. Ben frowned and opened his mouth as if to ask if everything was all right—her son, still, after everything Snoke had done to destroy that—when his face went white and he stumbled to his feet.

Then she felt it, surely only an echo of what was going through him, and knew that the strike had been successful.

Ben’s eyes were darting around, unfocused. He took a few uncoordinated steps and tripped on a chair leg, then grabbed the back of the chair and braced himself. Dear god, what was her boy feeling?

She moved beside him, covering his hand with hers and squeezing, grounding him in the moment. He seemed barely present, his consciousness someplace far away, with the creature who’d molded him since he was a boy.

A creature who no longer existed. The monster who’d stolen Ben was gone, and her son was here with her. He’d been strong enough to bring himself back, and that _thing_ could never prey on him again.

It took several moments for Ben’s panting to slow, his eyes to focus. Finally color began to return to his face.

Her son was free.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly.

“He’s gone. He’s really gone,” Ben said, dazed. His eyes were damp. With sorrow? No, surely not.

The door to the lounge slid open, and Han entered, expression wary. “The strike team’s sent word. The mission went as planned. They’re headed back now.”

“Have we heard from our operatives?”

Han crossed to her, gaze still cautious. Why, after all these, years, was he becoming so careful? The time for caution was past. Their family was finally whole again. Almost. Once Luke returned, they’d be a family again. “Not yet. They’ll let us know.”

Despite Leia putting her reputation on the line, she knew the Resistance would not trust that Snoke had actually been taken out unless they received confirmation from their agents embedded with the First Order.

She squeezed Ben’s hand. “How fast will the news spread through the First Order?”

He took a deep breath, seemed to steady himself. “The communication loss will be noticed immediately. They’ll send a team to investigate.”

“What kind of team?”

“A star destroyer, at least. In case Mallachior’s under attack. Once they’ve confirmed the moon’s destruction, word will spread like wildfire.”

Ben was, Leia noticed, starting to shake. He turned his face away, as if trying to deprive them of looking at him.

Or as if trying to hide emotions usually covered by a mask.

She drew Han a few steps away. “You can stay, can’t you?”

Han chewed on his lip. As if the query required thinking about. Which it did not.

“That was only in the form of a question for politeness,” she said bluntly. “You’re staying.”

“I’m not sure that’s best.”

“For who?” she demanded, keeping her voice low with effort.

“He doesn’t like me, Leia. You know that.”

“You got along fine when he was a baby. He loved it when you held him.”

“That was a long time ago...”

“He’s your son, and he needs you. More than ever. More than when he was teething or learning to walk. He’s trying to break free from the dark, Han. And we’re going to help him. We’re not going to fail him this time.”

Han shifted from foot to foot, looking as if he longed to be on the other side of the galaxy. She’d been tolerant of that in the past. Maybe too tolerant. They’d both failed, in so many ways.

“There was nothing we could have done, Leia.”

“I _sent him away_ —and you were gone half the time even before that. We knew he was powerful. We knew he was emotional. We knew that the dark side ran in my family. And we— _I_ —knew that Snoke had been there at the fringes his entire life. And still I convinced myself that everything would be fine. That the Republic needed me more than my son, that Luke could solve everything. I should have dropped everything. You should have. Luke should have. Our boy was in danger, and we didn’t put him first. We put him last.”

Han looked shaken. She didn’t blame him, but she didn’t soften. She would have her son healthy and happy and _back._ She owed him this. She owed it to herself. She would make sure it happened, and she didn’t care how the Republic or the Resistance or anyone else felt about it.

“Leia—”

The door slid open again and people began to pour in. The executive command, technicians, engineers, they just kept coming. Ackbar’s distinctive voice raised over the din. “Snoke is dead! Snoke and their Starkiller Base, destroyed on the same day! It is a great stroke for the Resistance!”

She’d known it for minutes. Why was she releasing a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding?

Beside her, Han grabbed Ben’s shoulder, excited beyond his reticence.

Ben knocked his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

Leia froze. The crowd was too loud for many to notice Ben’s outburst, but all she could think was that now, in this moment of triumph, a thoughtless word might give away every lie she’d told to win her son’s freedom, and she would lose him just when she’d gotten him back.

There was no way she was letting that happen.

She laughed gaily, then tossed off a remark about old family jokes. If someone asked her later what she’d said, she’d never be able to remember. She said any nonsense that sounded right and soothed onlookers, and didn’t care what it was. When everyone had gone back to celebrating, and no one was paying attention to anything other than where to find the crates of alcohol, she took Ben’s arm and drew him to the door. She glanced back: Han seemed rooted in place. She shot him a hard look and left towing Ben, who didn’t resist.

Han caught up by the time they reached her quarters. She waved a hand in warning, hustling them inside and shutting the door. They weren’t going to have it out in the hall where any passerby could hear.

She turned to them. Han looked intensely disapproving; Ben looked furious and a little teary, a combination she recalled well from his childhood.

They both looked ready to explode. She could tell from their faces who was closer to the edge, and went to her son.

“Ben, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure,” Leia soothed. “But you have to be careful, just until people are used to you. I know it seems like a lot right now, but it will get easier with time. Just know that you’re home, where you should be. Where you belong.”

“I don’t want him here,” he spat.

Han stepped closer, which Leia instantly recognized as a poor choice. “Take it easy, kid, or you’re—”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize it? Or were you just that desperate?”

“Darling, what are you talki—”

“Chewy’s bowcaster,” Ben said curtly, not taking his eyes from his father. It was like he was looking at a stranger—one he’d hated on sight. “The light glinting off it caught my eye. There was plenty of cover around, but he didn’t bother to hide very well. Must have been pretty sure he’d be taking that shot.”

Leia swung to Han, not believing it. Not wanting to believe it.

His face was flushed. Angry.

Guilty.

 


End file.
